


Of Cold Floors and Dolphins

by bloodontheground



Series: Chickadee [1]
Category: Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodontheground/pseuds/bloodontheground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mondays are always a drag, but it's in the quiet moments he finds his reasons for getting out of bed and fighting through the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Cold Floors and Dolphins

**Author's Note:**

> Wherein Seb is a single dad just trying to make ends meet and give his daughter the best life he can. Beware of serious angst in later parts, and ridiculous amounts of fluff.

There was something to be said for a quiet morning. The type of morning where the sun, not an alarm, was the cue to wake up, where birds could be heard singing outside the window, and where there was no rush to actually get _out_ of bed.

Most mornings weren't like that, and as his alarm blared next to his bed, Sebastian knew that this particular morning would be nothing of the sort. It was Monday, and that meant the start of another long, stressful week. Cracking one eye open, he glared at the clock, still thinking it too early to wake up for anything, no matter how important. Six am was an ungodly hour, and no one should be doing anything but sleeping this early.

Still, he smacked the dismiss button on his phone, and slowly sat up, rubbing his face. There was no avoiding Mondays, and this one in particular was one that was required reading, so to speak. He had training at work, and that meant not being late. In order to be there on time, he had to get moving.

His feet had barely hit the hardwood before he heard the soft knock at his door, and for a moment, the training, the commute to get to work, the lack of caffeine in his system—none of it mattered, because the knock signaled that someone else was awake in the tiny apartment and looking to speak to him. Smiling, he readied himself.

“C'mon on in,” Sebastian called, his smile growing bigger as he watched the knob be half-turned, released, then finally fully turned as the door opened. His arms spread wide as the person on the other side padded across the bare floor, their toes curling against the cold of the hardwood as they did their best not to step on any one particular place for longer than necessary. Though spring was well on its way, the nights were still chilly, and he knew he'd have to buy new socks before sandals were back in full time rotation.

“Morning, daddy.”

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asked, smiling at how both their voices were still rough with sleep, his little girl refusing to open her eyes more than a slit as she held up her arms to be pulled up and into his lap.

“Yeah, but there were jackhammers outside and they woke me up. I was dreaming 'bout the dolphins.”

“Ahh, so it was a _good_ dream?” Sebastian chuckled as she nodded, rubbing her eyes before she curled up against his chest, his little one decidedly not ready to face the day.

“Can we go again, daddy?” She murmured, almost back asleep as she rubbed her face against his t-shirt, little hands scrunching up in the fabric out of habit. His smile faded and his jaw clenched briefly, the question sparking that all-familiar twinge of guilt even as he shook his head.

“Maybe next month, sweetheart. We've gotta give some of the other kids a chance to see the dolphins. In the meantime, I think I saw a good show all about them at the library. We can get that, and you can watch it all month.” It wasn't an outright denial, but both of them knew that next month would come and go without another visit. The one last week had been a treat, and those only came a few times a year. As though it could offer any kind of recompense, Sebastian held her a little tighter, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he gave a few minutes of extra sleep.

 

_______________________

 

“No, Mrs. Murray, that's not what I said at all. All I'm trying to explain is that—” The click of the phone line was both unexpected and frustrating beyond belief. It was a full moon. It _had_ to be. There was no other way of explaining why _everyone_ was in such a foul mood as they called in. Keying in the reason for the disconnection as quickly as he could, Sebastian was barely done hitting enter before the next call came in. The woman behind him, a new trainee, looked shocked and slightly scared. This was not how he'd hoped shadowing would go, especially with the older woman, who was already uncertain of her ability to perform this new job.

“It's not like this every day, I promise,” he smiled back at her while on a quick mute, hoping she didn't notice that he was nearly at his limit for argumentative, rude, and simply insane customers for the day.

Sebastian looked at the clock, taking a deep breath when he realized he still had four hours left on his ten hour shift. It was going to be one of those days and he hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep to deal with it. Finishing up the call, he was glad for a bit of a breather when his phone didn't ring again.

“Stan! Take 'em back to the boardroom! It's time to go over the scripts!” His boss, Art, called just as Sebastian got the all too familiar beep in his ear, signaling that he'd been too slow on the draw. Pointing to his ear to indicate to Art that he was on a call, Sebastian was more than a little dismayed when his boss collected the three new hires and brought them back to the boardroom himself, leaving Sebastian’s opportunity to train them in the dust. He'd been looking forward to some time off the phones, but now he was stuck doing the same old thing until six.

Frowning now that he was able to, he waited for the clock to strike two so he could go on break.

 

_______________________

 

Six rolled around, finally, and he rushed through the double doors of the old factory-turned-office, wanting nothing more than to be out of there. There were days when he hated his job more than usual, and today had _definitely_ been one of them. He walked quickly and with purpose, hoping that the faster he went, the faster he'd get there. NYC during the home time rush was a soul-sucking place, even if one was on foot, and despite his best attempts, Sebastian got held up several times at stop lights and alleys alike, forced to wait as cars went by or maneuvered out of his way. By the time he reached the front of the preschool, he was sweating and more than a little irritated by the world as a whole.

“Mr. Stan, you're cutting it close,” the school principal frowned, the woman not caring to learn anything about his family, or why he was always running to get his daughter and getting there with seconds to spare. Forcing a smile of contrition at the woman, his eyes focused instead on his daughter, whose usually long, tidy hair, was pulled out of its braid and whose purple dress had a very bright red stain on it.

“What happened?” he asked, Sebastian’s eyes going from his daughter to the principal and back. The woman merely shrugged, washing her hands of the issue as she tended to do with most things in the school. “Must have happened on the way out. Kids are always getting their things dirty during recess. You should teach her to be more careful...” Her dismissal _infuriated_ him, and Sebastian glared at her before turning his gaze to his daughter, his eyes expressing nothing but worry for his little girl. “What happened?” he repeated, this time looking only at her, not at her principal.

“Ashley pushed me, pulled my hair, and threw juice on me,” his little one replied before squishing her head into the crook of his neck, little fingers holding tight to the collar of his jacket. His hand cupped the back of her head as he fixed the principal with an icy gaze.

“My daughter needs to be more careful, huh? I need you to be less incompetent. The next time this Ashley kid does anything to my daughter, you'll be hearing not only from me, but from the school board. Do I make myself clear?” he spat, holding his daughter a little tighter. The principal seemed to finally clue in that this was a situation and offered him a flimsy smile. “We do our best to appropriately punish any student who is breaking the rules.”

“Do better.” he said through gritted teeth, Sebastian turning to go home, knowing full well that the principal would do nothing until heat was applied from above in the form of the school board. For now, he'd just have to teach her how to defend herself—something he'd been hoping to hold off on for a few more years. Sebastian would have moved her to a different school, but anything comparable was too far away, and he didn't want to be far in case something happened.

Once home, his daughter's face finally came away from his neck and she pressed her tiny hands to his cheeks before looking at him with a small smile. “Hi daddy. I missed you today.” The wrongs of the day behind her, it was obvious she was in a far better mood now that she was home.

“Hi sweetheart, I missed you more.”

“Nuh uhhhh!”

“Yes huuhhh!”

Shifting her position, he lifted her dress and blew a raspberry onto her little belly, causing a screech of laughter that made his whole rotten day a thing of the past. He was home now, with the little girl his world revolved around, and she was finally smiling and laughing. He couldn't ask for more. Locking the door behind him with one hand, Sebastian gave her a few tickles for good measure before setting her down with a big smile and an even bigger kiss to her cheek.

“Go put your stuff away, and meet dad in the kitchen when you're done, sweetie,” he urged her, watching as his daughter ran to her room, back pack half-flung off as she raced to come back, knowing she'd get to help with dinner.

Rubbing his face, he looked around at the minuscule and sparse apartment, some of his good mood disappearing as it hit him once more just how little he had to give his little one. He could count on one hand, the number of amenities they had in the place, and most of them were considered necessities by most in 2016. The living room lacked a couch, a coffee table, furniture or artwork of any sort. Instead, it was where they usually had dinner at a small two-person table. His room held a bed and a night stand, and the bathroom and kitchen both held only the absolute necessities. The only room in the house that was fully furnished and decorated was his daughter's, which had taken on something of a space theme, with blue and purple painted walls, glow-in the dark stars, and a lamp that projected the planets onto the opposite wall. It was her little haven, and he wouldn't have had it any other way. Still, it hurt to look around and see that this, haven or no haven, was where she was growing up; dull white walls, no money for even the simplest things. His only hope was that he could change the situation before she was so old that she understood her father's poverty and either resented him for it, or pitied him for it and changed her own life to try and help, neither options he wanted for her.

Little arms curled around his thigh and Sebastian smiled, brought out of his reverie by his daughter's affection. “Ready for dinner, munchkin?” he asked, smoothing one hand over her still somewhat-braided hair, Sebastian itching to take the style out so her head could rest and he could get any juice he knew probably lingered there, out. But having a bath before dinner was a futile exercise even with the most well-mannered little girl, so he would have to wait.

Together, they made a simple dinner of chicken and spaghetti with every vegetable he could afford thrown into the mix. His little girl helped where she could, Sebastian watching how carefully she poured and dropped things into the pot, always looking up at him to see if she was doing it right.

“Mmm, your pasta is very good, sweetie,” he complimented once they'd both taken the first bite, his little one shaking her head, nose scrunched.

“Not my pasta. Your pasta. You cooked.”

“Yeah, but you helped a LOT. So I'm gonna call this your pasta, kiddo.” He beamed at her, his daughter smiling back just as big, Sebastian beyond grateful for moments like this.

 

_______________________

 

“Pick out a story, kiddo. Dad's just gonna shower real quick,” he called as his little one ran out of the bathroom, robe on, hair twisted up in a smaller towel, re-energized after her bath and the mighty battle of her Legos versus her dolphins. The dolphins always won and he wondered if there'd ever be a day when she let the humans take a victory.

Stepping under the spray, he was as quick as possible, washing the day away with the shampoo and body wash and turning off the water even before the last of the suds went down the drain. Long, luxurious showers were a thing of the past, and now, he made it quick, made it cold, and made it efficient. After a mere three minutes, he was out and dressed in a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt, Sebastian sticking a neon green comb halfway through his long locks before padding to his daughter's room only to find she'd already picked out a book and was waiting for him in his room.

“Daddy!” she cried out upon seeing the comb sticking out of his still-wet hair, his daughter dissolving into a fit of giggles as she flopped back on the bed.

“What?” he asked, pretending nothing was wrong as he dove onto the bed next to her, landing on his stomach next to her laughing form.

“My comb!”

“Where?” he looked around, patting over his shirt pocket to see if maybe it was there, Sebastian playing dumb just to get more laughs out his little one.

“IN YOUR HAIR, SILLY DADDY!!” She squealed, another round of laughter escaping as she watched her father look for it. Sebastian pretended to be surprised as he patted his own head down and found the comb stuck in his crown, looking at it with confusion before handing it to her.

In a little ritual they'd created without exchanging a single word, most nights before story time were spent combing each other's hair. Since Sebastian's was slightly shorter than his daughter's long mane, he always went first, sitting still as his daughter stood over him and did her best to comb through his dark locks.

“How was school other than Ashley doing all that stuff?” he asked softly, as she made her first pass, Sebastian eager to hear about her day. This, more than any other time in their routine, was where they caught up and talked instead of playing, working, or going to school. It was his favorite time of the day and the one where he felt closest to the little heart he did his best to care for day in and day out.

“We made paintings for Memorial Day, and tomorrow we get to take home our beans,” Sebastian was informed, nodding gently at the information, figuring that despite Ashley's bullying, his daughter had an otherwise good day.

His daughter talked excitedly about upcoming crafts and other such projects they were doing, and Sebastian felt a sense of relief that despite all the issues _he_ had with the school, his daughter was still learning, still enjoying herself, and still getting an education.

When it was his turn, Sebastian sat against the headboard, lifting and dropping his daughter down onto the mattress in front of him, getting another laugh out of her as she bounced a little. Opening the book, Sebastian began to read to her as he combed through her long, chocolate-colored locks, so much like his own that there was no way she hadn't gotten that particular trait from anyone else.

“In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines." He re-read her favorite book as he combed, Sebastian loosely french braiding her hair, knowing she hated it in her face as she slept.

The more he read, the more her shoulders dropped, her head lulled, her whole body relaxed. Soon enough, his little one was in that flux state of being awake and asleep at the same time, and Sebastian couldn't help but cuddle her close, rocking her gently the way he used to when she was big enough to fit entirely into his arms without limbs spilling out on either side. Leaning down, he pressed gentle kiss after gentle kiss all over her soft little face, the same bone-weary sadness that plagued him most nights creeping back up as he took stock of the features that belonged to her mother more than they ever did him. The cute button nose, the slight smattering of freckles, and the cupid's bow lips were all hers.

Taking a deep breath, he did his best to keep his composure, not wanting his little one to see anything but his smile, despite of the ache in his heart.

“I love you, chickadee,” he whispered, one hand coming up to smooth over her forehead, Sebastian barely holding onto to his anguish, each little flicker of expression on her face bringing back a memory of a happier time.

“I love you too, daddy. Sleep good,” she murmured, curling up just as sleep overtook her completely, his little one falling into a peaceful rest in her favorite place in the world; his arms.

 


End file.
